


Dip Me in Your Smooth Waters

by brawnysloth



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-09
Updated: 2018-09-09
Packaged: 2019-07-10 06:08:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15943352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brawnysloth/pseuds/brawnysloth
Summary: Jim courts Joyce. Joyce is oblivious.





	Dip Me in Your Smooth Waters

**Author's Note:**

> Enjoy :)

He starts small, she realizes later. So small that when she actually thinks about it, she can’t pinpoint when he’d technically ‘started’, though she wouldn’t be afraid to put money on their lunch in the park.

One day, he throws open the door of Melvald’s and lumbers in, startling her from her daydreams. No one had been in all day - no one had been in all week really - so she hadn’t expected to hear the door chime. He strides up to her counter and snatches at her keys.

“Takin’ an extended lunch,” he grumbles, searching through her keys until he finds the one to the shop’s door. “Come on.”

“Hop what if someone-”

“No one’s coming in and you know it,” he throws over his shoulder as he heads to the door. “It’s beautiful out, I ain’t letting you sit in here where you can’t enjoy it come on.” 

She follows him after a moment, he’s not wrong after all. And if she’s being perfectly honest with herself, Melvald’s isn’t likely to see out the year so she’s not too worried about Donald firing her if he finds out.

He beckons her into the Blazer, and when she gets in she sees he’s already got a bag full of takeout from Marie’s Diner.

He drives them out to Forest Hills Park and leads her past the crowded playground and further into the wooded area. A bit of the way in, he diverts left off the foot path. She has a sneaking suspicion of where he’s going but surely she’s wrong.

“And just where are we going?” she asks through a smile.

He turns, feigns ignorance. “I dunno, just wandering til we find somewhere nice.”

She doesn’t believe him for a second, but she also doesn’t want to get her hopes up.

“Ah, how about over there?” He comes to a stop, moves out of her way so she can see and yes. Yes, there it is.

Ahead of them a Blue Ash tree looms large in a small clearing. It’s so big she can’t hug her arms around it’s trunk, and she knows, she tried on more than one occasion. She smiles as she thinks about the memories this tree holds, the moments between her and the man next to her it’s bore witness to.

“Oh Hop,” she whispers.

“Takes you back, huh?”

She grins at him, before continuing on toward the tree. When she reaches it, she scans the trunk and sure enough, she spots it.

‘J+J’ is carved delicately into the wood, faded over time but still visible.

“10 year old me was a real romantic,” he murmurs as he comes up beside her.

“He was. Shame it didn’t last.”

He glares in mock annoyance and holds up the bag of takeout, gestures around them.

“What do you call all this then?”

She can’t help but giggle at the joke before grabbing at the bag. “Alright Romeo, lets go I’m hungry.”

They eat with their backs against the tree. The tree that saw their first kiss; the tree where he found her after her mother passed, where he held her through the night as she cried; the tree he brought her to the night before he shipped off to Vietnam, where he asked her to wait for him.

And she can’t keep a smile off her face for the rest of the day, even if no one comes into the store to see it.

*****

Two weeks later, the kids beg and plead to go see Back to the Future. Hopper had promised the Party if they could wait a few weeks for the crowds to die down, he’d let El go with them. And wait they had, patiently for over a month. Will and El press them relentlessly one night at their weekly dinner together. Hopper is noncommittal, shrugging, mumbling about how it still seems like a popular movie.

“Should probably give it another few weeks,” he says.

“It will be gone from the theater by then,” Will whines, “Hop, please, you promised!”

He sighs and glances helplessly her way. All she can do is shrug. They both know he’s going to give in anyway.

That Thursday evening, she waits with the kids off to the side as Hopper approaches the ticket counter. She’s bought them popcorn and sodas as a treat and they are all buzzing with excitement and the immediate sugar high. It’s difficult to get them to all remain calm and still. But when she warns them about drawing attention to El, they settle down slightly.

Hopper collects the tickets and heads back over, handing each kid their ticket. He hands Mike his last before grasping the boy’s shoulder, pointing a stern finger at him.

“Don’t let either of ‘em out of your sight do you understand me?”

Mike nods, says a quick “Yes sir”, before he turns to lead the rest of the group away. Joyce is confused, watches as El and Hopper share a brief nod before she turns to follow. Will throws a “Thanks Chief!” over his shoulder and waves to Joyce. She turns to Hopper, bewildered.

“Aren’t we-?”

He rests his hand gently on her back and guides her in the opposite direction.  
“We’re seeing something else,” he says, holding out the remaining tickets for her to see.

“Fright Night? But Hop, the kids-”

“Need space,” he interjects as he holds the door to the theater open for her. She doesn’t move through, instead turning to face him in the door way, his hand slipping from her back. He smiles softly at her. “They’ve got their snacks, they know to go to the bathroom in pairs, and Wheeler’s got his walkie.” He taps his back pocket where his own walkie resides. She’d assumed he’d brought it for work. “Anything goes wrong he’ll click three times to alert us.”  
She hesitates still. It sounds like he’d put thought into it and of course she trusted him. It was the rest of the world she didn’t trust. And she knew they needed to give the kids space, had promised they would with the approaching school year. But still.

“This movie is 10 minutes shorter than their’s,” he continues. “So we’ll be out in the lobby to meet them when they’re done.” 

She still doesn’t step through the open door.

“Come on Joycie,” he says softly, a wry smile on his face, “I need ya to hold my hand during the scary parts.”

Against her best wishes, she feels a smile breaking through.

“I get to hold the walkie,” she says, holding out her hand to accept it.

He grins, handing it over, “So long as you can still hold onto me when I get scared.”

She rolls her eyes. “I doubt it’s that scary, Hop.”

She refuses to actually admit it later that she was wrong, so very wrong. But when the credits roll, there’s no denying she’s clutching the walkie in one hand and his hand in the other, fingers threaded together. And she may or may not have buried her face in his shoulder a few times. She’ll deny it if he ever brings it up.

*****

“You got any plans this Saturday night?” he asks one rainy Wednesday as they sit in his blazer, finishing off the remains of their lunches. That one extended lunch they’d shared had spiraled into a weekly occurrence for them. Always on Wednesdays and never at either of their places of work. He was always adamant they got out, even if it was a day like this where they sought refuge in his car.

She hums, sneaks another fry from their shared packet.

“Yeah I’m incredibly busy,” she says dryly. “I’ve got people lining up to make plans with me.”

He chuckles softly, steals a fry of his own.

“I’ve got a bit of a surprise for ya,” he says, “if you can fit me in.”

“Oh? What is it?”

“Telling you would defeat the purpose of it being a surprise, Joyce.”

She huffs and crosses her arms. She hates surprises, always has as he very well knows.

“Well in that case the best I can do is put you on the waiting list.”

He grins. “I’ll take it.”

He picks her up early; their days of staying out late are all but behind them and besides, though the kids are safely ensconced in the Wheeler’s basement with Jonathan and Nancy in tow, they’d rather not be out and away from them too late.

She bugs him the entire car ride, trying to get him to reveal their destination. He doesn’t budge, though he does say that they’re headed a town over. That’s fine by her, if it’s worth going to it’s not in Hawkins.

When he turns into the parking lot, she gasps, leaning forward in her seat. She turns her wide eyes to him. He’s smiling as he puts the car in park before turning to her, his eyes shining brightly under the neon signs surrounding the building.

“Just like old times, huh?”

“Oh Hop,” she sighs.

His smile widens as he inclines his head toward the front doors. “I might be a bit rusty, and my whole body aches but I think I can still keep up with you.”  
She giggles as she opens the car door.

“You were never able to keep up with me,” she says as she hops down from the passenger seat and makes her way around the car.

“Ain’t that the truth,” he mumbles, hand coming up to rub at her arm.

And suddenly she feels all of 16 again, off for a usual Saturday night spent with Jimmy Hopper; a few rounds at the alley before heading out to the Quarry for a few rounds of a different kind.

She reaches up to cup his cheek and her eyes wander over his face. There’s a faint trace of stubble beneath her palm; lines from the toll the years have taken on him curve out from the corners of his eyes; and that silly mustache she can’t decide how she feels about, constantly fluctuating between finding it suits him and finding it ridiculous. But beneath it all, she sees him. Her Jimmy. A bit older, a bit wearier. But as his eyes continue to shine as he grins down at her, she can see him clear as day.

She lifts herself to the tips of her toes and presses a soft kiss to his cheek. When she pulls away the grin is gone. Instead, he stares down at her with a serious look. And just like that the moment is gone. And she remembers that he’s not hers; he hasn’t been for a long time and he never will be again.

“Joyce,” he murmurs, hand dropping from her arm.

Her chest constricts, because suddenly the thought of rejection from him fills her with dread. Which is ridiculous really, she thinks. The idea of him wanting her - or rather not wanting her - hadn’t crossed her mind until now.

So when his fingers graze hers, she pulls away towards the door, plasters what she hopes is a convincing smile on her face.

“Come on Jimmy,” she says teasingly, “hear nowadays they got rails you can put up so you can’t hit any more gutter balls.”

He rolls his eyes, the smile returning, and follows her inside.

They play three games, and she wins all of them. He makes excuses the entire time. His back aches when he hits the gutter. He hurt his shoulder last week chopping wood, that’s why he missed the chance at a spare. He grabs her ball after she hits three strikes in a row, dramatically claims its weighted specially to hit down the middle.

“Well it’s clearly rigged to work only for you,” he argues over her laughter when he uses it and once again hits a gutter ball.

“Admit it,” she says through a giggle as they walk up to her porch. “You’re just bad at bowling, always have been always will be.”

He shrugs, hands tucked deep in his pockets. “It wasn’t the bowling that had me going there every Saturday.”

She blushes at the implication, the nod to what else they got up to on those Saturdays.

“Well yeah I suppose that was, you know, good too.”

Good? She internally berates herself. Of all the words, good?

His brows furrow in confusion before shooting up his forehead, his eyes widening in surprise. A blush creeps across his cheeks to match hers.

“Oh uh yeah,” he says, awkwardly scratching at the back of his head. “Yeah course that was -“ he clears his throat “- great. But I uh, you know I just meant…” he sighs heavily, shuffles closer toward her. 

“What I meant,” he begins again, quieter, “is that I went bowling because I just wanted to spend time with you.”

“Oh?” It sounds ridiculous as it squeaks out of her, but she’s found she isn’t capable of saying much else. Not when he’s stood this close to her, not when he’s looking at her like that.

He nods. “Didn’t care what we were doing, Joyce. Just wanted to be with you. S’all that mattered.”

Her heart pounds heavily in her chest. She doesn’t understand why he’s bringing this all up. Why he feels the need to remind her how she had royally screwed up and chosen Lonnie. And now, now she can’t help but think about them presently. About whether there’s still a chance, whether he still just wants to spend time with her.

“Jim,” she breathes, unsure what to say.

He leans forward, murmurs her name back, and then his face is illuminated by approaching headlights and he sways backward, away from her.

She’s confused as she turns to gaze at the car gives an awkward wave to Jonathan behind the steering wheel. She glances back at Hopper, now a good few feet from her. He too waves at the car with a smile. And she feels her heart rate subside. She’d just been imagining things, she decides, shaking the thoughts from her head as she turns to greet the kids. The younger two take turns hugging the adults, chattering about their amazing evening, thanking them for letting them stay out late.

“Course,” Hopper says, rubbing Will’s hair affectionately, “glad you guys had fun.”

He nods his head at El, who hugs each of the Byers once more before heading to the Blazer.

Will heads inside, but Jonathan hovers at the bottom of the porch steps. He clears his throat awkwardly.

“Sorry,” he says sheepishly avoiding looking at either of them, “didn’t mean to….” he gesticulates a bit, searching for missing words, before shrugging helplessly.

“You’re good, kid,” Hopper says, stepping down and clapping him on the shoulder. “Perfect timing, I was just saying goodnight.”

He turns to smile back up at her. “Night, Joyce. I had fun tonight.”

She nods. “Me too. Night, Hop.”

He stands there for a moment watching her. He looks disappointed, she thinks. But then he turns and steps away from the house and off to his car. Jonathan looks at her, confused, but she doesn’t know what to say. 

So she turns too and heads into the house. She needs to lie down she thinks to herself. Lie down and sleep off whatever the hell this is.

*****

The next morning she wakes to find the boys eating breakfast on the couch, watching cartoons. She heads to the kitchen to pour herself a cup of coffee before joining them.

“So you guys had fun last night?” she asks, realizing she had neglected them a bit last night, too caught up in her confusion surrounding Hopper.

Will nods enthusiastically. “We watched Return of the Jedi and then we went and got ice cream!”

Her eyes widen, that certainly wouldn’t please Hopper. Sensing her concern, Jonathan is quick to continue the story.

“They stayed in the car with Nancy,” he says, “I ran in and got them it, there was nothing suspicious I swear.”

“I trust you honey,” she assures him, “and he does too.” She smiles. “Though we should still probably avoid telling him that part anyways.”

He laughs. “Good idea. How was your date?”

She goes incredibly still. She surely heard him wrong.

“What?” she asks lamely.

Jonathan and Will glance at each other.

“Your date,” Jonathan says, simply, as though it’s obvious. “How was it?”

“We didn’t… it wasn’t… it wasn’t a date,” she sputters. 

The boys glance at each other again before Will turns, says, “Yes it was.”

“No baby, it wasn’t… that’s not… it was very much not a date.” She finishes with a laugh and she’s unsure who she’s speaking to, her son or herself. All she knows is that she’s no longer still. She can’t seem to stop moving, her body shaking with nervous energy, her hands twitching as she sets the coffee cup down.

Will shakes his head, his face scrunching up in that way Hopper says reminds him of her. “But that’s what he said when he asked - ow!”

Jonathan is never aggressive with his little brother, the wounds Lonnie left too open, too fresh. Sure he jostles him occasionally, but nothing harmful. So she knows from the accidental force with which he’s just elbowed Will, he’s panicked.

“Jonathan,” she says calmly, or rather at an attempt at calm.

He shakes his head, wide eyes refusing to meet her.

“Jonathan,” she says again, her voice reaching a high pitch she’s not sure she’s ever reached before.

“I thought you knew,” he says quickly, “Mom, how did you not know?”

“Know what?” she squeaks, the volume of her voice now matching the pitch.

He speaks quickly, words jumbling together as he tries to get them out, “He came by the paper, it was a month ago maybe? Took me out to lunch. He - well he didn’t ask -“ he glares at his brother “- he just…. he just said he was going to take you out.” He shrugs. “He wanted me to know it was serious - mom please, you had to have known.”

The world feels tilted off it’s axis. Date? No, she thinks, was it… was it _dates?_ Plural? Her mind races back through their recent encounters.

Jonathan had said a month ago but she couldn’t think of anything unusual from the past month, anything that would constitute as a date.

 _Except the lunches,_ a tiny voice in her head argues back. _And that time two weeks ago when he’d asked you to go for a drink down at the Hideaway only to show up at your house with a six pack of Coca Cola and a bottle of your favorite rum, claiming he didn’t want to be around anyone but you so could you just have drinks in instead?_

And of course there was last week when he’d taken her to Benny’s, his first time there since their dear friend’s death. He’d been fine at first, but after they’d sat down and placed their orders, he’d been shaking with nerves, his leg bouncing so aggressively it caused the whole table to thrum. She’d placed a hand over his atop the table and he had relaxed a little but still not enough. So she’d suggested they get their burgers to go and he had been up and out of his seat before she’d finished the question.

“I’m sorry,” he’d said over and over again. “I wanted this to be a nice night.”

 _Shit._ How had she not realized then? Or after, when they’d retreated back to his new home and had eaten their burgers in front of the tv, watching Roman Holiday, their favorite from when they were younger.

He’d sat so close, arm around her shoulders, head turning every so often to whisper lines to her as they were spoken. He’d pressed a kiss to her cheek at one point and -

She stands abruptly, knee banging against the table, spilling her coffee. “I gotta-”

She grabs her keys - for once in plain view - stumbles toward the door and throws on a pair of shoes. They’re big, seemingly Jonathan’s, but she doesn’t have time to go grab hers.

“Mom where are you going?” Jonathan calls after her, following her as she opens the door and heads out. “Mom you’re in your pjs!”

It’s the least of her worries and she waves her hand back at him, acknowledging she’s heard him but she can’t seem to speak. If she speaks, it will only delay her. She doesn’t have time, she needs to go now.

She slides into her car, backs down the drive, and heads in the direction of Hopper.


End file.
